Sherlock Holmes and the Houdini Birthright

by Val Andrews

  'No false whiskers for you Watson,' Sherlock agreed, 'but I feel sure that, as ever, your eig ever, co-operation will prove invaluable if you stay in the background.' I accepted the situation with reasonable grace and was glad to hear that Houdini had not encountered any difficulty in hiring a suitable room in the hotel for the seance.

  Houdini pushed his plate aside. 'Well gentlemen, it's all fixed for eight tomorrow night. Meanwhile if you would like to spend an hour or two studying the sort of people that you are going to be up against I suggest that you attend the demonstration of spirit contact being given this afternoon at the Blandford Hall. My face is too well known, but do go to see and hear for yourselves, I tell you you'll get a kick out of it!'

  At about two-thirty we left the hotel and sauntered as far as Oxford Street by way of the Charing Cross Road. Thence we took a motorized taxicab and reached the Blandford Hall only a few minutes after the appointed time for the demonstration.

  In the lobby we encountered a dark-haired woman of indeterminable age who asked us to sign the book as she handed us our tickets.

  Admission is free is it not?' I enquired having assumed this from a glance at the poster tacked to the noticeboard outside the building.

  She nodded, saying, with a voice and air of resignation, 'You are allowed, of course, to make a donation towards the hire of the hall and other expenses. This is, of course, not a profit-making enterprise.' Rather sheepishly we slipped a few half-crowns into a box on the table which appeared to be quite well filled already.

  Professor Bernard was already upon the platform and addressing the audience when we entered the auditorium. He was a doleful-looking man of about five-and-thirty, dressed in black. He was neat though hardly immaculate although his luxuriant dark hair and Dundreary whiskers were obviously well tended. He spoke with a voice which sounded as if it had been made rock-hard through many years of projection.

  'They are all around me at this very moment ladies and gentlemen, all jostling each other to gain my attention. What's that? Yes, I'll tell her if you think that she is here ... you do?' He spoke and gesticulated towards what I could be forgiven for considering to be an imaginary presence. Certainly not one which was visible.

  'Is there a lady with the initials M S present?' There was no response, so he continued, 'Oh M F, I do wish you would slow down and speak more distinctly.'

  He was interrupted by an elderly lady who sprang to her feet and fairly shouted in excitement, 'My initials are M F...Mary Fraser!'

  The professor smiled at her benevolently, 'Mary...of course I knew you had to be here...your friend is here, Jane...or is it Janet...or Jean?'

  Again he seemed to be having some difficulties with the enunciation of the disembodied voice which he alone could hear.

  'No, it is Jane, Jane Bradley!' the lady responded, 'Oh please tell me what my dear friend wishes me to know?'

  'She seems anxious about another friend, one that you both knew during her earthly life.' As this statement elicited no response from Mary Bradley, the professor continued, 'I'm sorry, she will speak so rapidly, slow down you silly girl... what? It's about your dear little friend, your companion...it'sl sanion.....'

  Mary Fraser started, 'It's Jock, my little dog. He was off-colour when I left home, please ask Jane if he will soon be well again?'

  The response was reassuring, 'Mary, Jane says do not worry about your dear little friend, he will be well again soon if you stop giving him chocolates and lumps of sugar. Jane has to leave now but Mary wants to contact you again soon through me. Please remain seated at the end of my demonstration and we will talk about this.'

  The old lady nodded happily as she sat down, her face wreathed in a most attractive smile. The professor turned his attention to another spirit. One after another, he reunited a Mr Godfrey Sheridon with his cousin George and a Miss Smith with her fiance who had lost his life in the Great War. A fallen soldier wants - with the initial J -wants to contact his dear sweetheart.'

  A lady of some thirty years leapt to her feet crying, 'John, is it my dear John at last?'

  The professor listened to the voice which only he could hear and then asked, 'Was he in the Royal Engineers?' This drew an instant 'Yes, oh yes, dear John it is really you!'

  The demonstration continued much in this manner for an hour and was then interrupted by the lady we had seen at the ticket table who shyly stepped onto the platform holding a small sheet of what looked like personal notepaper. She handed it to the professor who glanced at it and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. After he had studied the paper, he said, 'The lady who has written this note must realize that I cannot reply to such a personal matter in public but if she would like to remain seated after the demonstration I will be happy to consult her and try to help.'

  After that the professor's demonstration went from strength to strength as he reeled off the full names of departed ones with superb histrionics. Then suddenly he asked, 'Is there a Mr Watson here, a Mr J Watson?'

  I replied, 'My name is Watson, Doctor John Watson.' I confess to being somewhat startled as he went on to say, 'Quite so, but our dear departed do not use the titles of formality. Your brother is with me and wishes you to know that he is now quite without those demons which had possessed him in life.'

  It appeared to me at the time that the message could only come from my late brother who had died a drunkard.

  Holmes nudged me and said, 'Come Watson we have heard enough old chap. Let us leave and partake of tea at the Polytechnic.' His manner was kindly but firm.

  It was but a short walk to the tea house and we were soon installed at a table with teapot, cups, milk jug and the extra hot water upon which Holmes always insisted. We had spoken little on the short walk from the hall, my own thoughts being centred upon the seeming message from my late brother and Holmes's silence being obviously out of consideration for me. He poured the tea and then broke the silence. 'Well Watson, did you ever see such an example of a rogue feeding off the sorrows of the bereaved before?'

  'I admit some of it did smack of chicanery,' I said, 'for example, the vagueness concerning the names of both the bereaved and departed. It was as if he waited to be prompted by the people in the audience who wished to believe; blinding themselves to obvious trickery. As an actor he rivals the late l aus the lamented Sir Henry Irving!'

  'Obviously the professor has his methods as I do myself but Watson you speak as if you had reservations concerning his psychic powers.'

  'Well, I could see how he could have deceived those poor souls but how did he know that I had a brother who died a hopeless drunkard? After all there would hardly be another Doctor J Watson in the hall in a similar situation.'

  It was quite uncanny to hear the sage words and incisive voice of Sherlock Holmes issuing from the lips of a benevolent cleric as he said, 'My dear Watson, let us consider the whole thing. To begin with he simply announced a name, J Watson, which you had yourself signed in that book when we entered the hall. You told him yourself that you were John Watson, Doctor John Watson!'

  I considered what he had said but found a flaw. 'Even so, how could he be aware that even a J Watson would be present. He had already started his demonstration when we entered, he did not leave the platform and had no opportunity to look at that book.'

  'Oh Watson, what of the fictitious letter from a lady in the audience brought onto the platform by his confederate?'

  'You mean that letter was really just a list of some of the names that had been written in the book?'

  'Exactly! Had we stayed longer I have no doubt that even more well-defined names would have emerged.'

  I had to confess that I could well have been taken in by crafty subterfuge until another point seemed to nag at my logic. 'But Holmes, you know very well that my brother died a drunkard. You of all people should recollect it for did you not once all but terrify me when you used your methods of deduction in an examination of his watch?'

  Holmes nodded seeming as kindly as his disguise it
self. 'My dear fellow, it is you yourself who have applied this particular interpretation. The professor's exact words did not imply a connection with drink.'

  'He said that my lost one was now without those demons that had possessed him - words to that effect.'

  'Quite so, no mention of drink, the demons could have meant pain or a troubled mind or freedom from debt or any of the things so often coincidental with bereavement. I would remind you that he did not even mention that it was your brother that he referred to. To coin a phrase, old fellow, you wrote your own scene.'

  Of course he was right and the more I thought about it, the more obvious it all became, illustrating the ease with which the bereaved and innocent-minded are deceived. But to what purpose, for the admission had been free, with the coins in the collecting box possibly being sufficient to pay for the hire of the hall, but more likely not.

  As usual Holmes managed to read my thoughts, saying, Although there seemed no obvious profit motive I am sure that the professor, as he calls himself (although professor of what I would like to know) probably gains a handsome living from giving private consultations with the spirits, involving those people whom he bade to remain seated at the conclusion. I have even known such charlatans to become beneficiaries from the wills of their elderly victims.'

  I changed the subject but eldsubjectonly fractionally. 'So, Holmes, do you think that Houdini sent us to that demonstration in order to alert us to the kind of thing we might expect from the Blackthornes?'

  'I think he considered it might be an excellent curtain raiser. He wanted our minds to be directed into a certain way of thinking. If the Blackthornes are not genuine I think we must expect deceptions to make those that we have just experienced seem elementary Watson.'

  He had opened the discussion even further. 'You think then that we might find Mrs Blackthorne, or Marina, to be a genuine medium or psychic, or whatever she claims to be?'

  As a man of science and logic I have always considered any kind of supernatural occurrence to be unlikely. You will notice the word that I use, I say unlikely, but not impossible. Even if a thousand such people were proved to be fraudulent the thousand-and-first could still be genuine. We must not discount anything Watson.'

  On the following day I had to consider my plans carefully. I knew that I would need to absent myself from the hotel well in advance of the arrival of the seance participants. I consulted Holmes about this at breakfast, or rather he brought it up by saying, 'Watson what are your plans for today? The Doyles and the Blackthornes may arrive early so I suggest that you absent yourself by late afternoon. I can give you an account of the seance if we meet for coffee in the hotel lounge at about 11 pm.'

  'You think they will have left by that time?' I asked.

  'If they do not show some sign of departure by ten I will feign exhaustion to speed it. To make quite sure, however, I will tell the lobby porter, Grimes, to watch for your return and appraise you of the situation. He can be relied upon as I have discovered that he was one of our "irregulars" at Baker Street some thirty years ago.'

  So it was that I left the hotel at about four and made my way to the British Museum where I spent a pleasant hour in the Egyptian gallery. I felt some slight guilt at thus spending my time in self-indulgent pleasure but I had been assured by Holmes that there was little that I could do to aid him until after the seance. I mused that there might be little enough that I could do even then, so I tried to put the whole matter out of my mind for a few hours.

  Having taken tea at Fullers, I took a stroll down to Fleet Street where I dined and eventually made my way to the Embankment thinking to take a brisk walk there in the direction of Charing Cross. I had not been walking long beside the wide-topped parapet when I espied a young woman, neatly and respectably dressed, sitting upon one of the public benches. Her attitude was one of complete despair; her head was in her hands and her shoulders shook as if from sobbing, although I heard no sound. There were few other people about and as I drew nearer she rose quite suddenly and, with a scream, made for the parapet with great speed. Something in the despair and urgency of her movement plus that scream told me that she intended to throw herself into the Thames.

  Immediately I spurred myself into action without quite realizing the form that it would take. I managed to grasp both her arms as she tried to clamber up onto the stone wall. She struggled a little at first but then, quite suddenly, her resistance ceased and I was able to calm her enough to enable me to guide her back to the bench.

  At first I scarcely kner bscarcelw what to say to her but eventually I seem to remember saying quite a lot. 'My dear young lady I thank providence that I happened by at this exact time to prevent you from taking a step of the kind from which there is no retraction. After all, every cloud has a silver lining and it's another day tomorrow, don't you know?'

  She had calmed a little and I was able to appreciate that, despite her expression of anguish, she was extremely attractive. She turned upon me the most amazing and enormous blue eyes and said, in educated tones, 'Sir, nothing that happens tomorrow can alter my situation. I came to London just two days ago to join my fiance. I arrived a day earlier than expected and, upon arrival at the hotel where I knew him to be staying, I was horrified to discover that far from being alone he was with a young woman who was improperly dressed. He had tried to conceal her in a wardrobe but all the signs of a liaison were there and eventually, knowing that I was not deceived, she emerged.'

  I sympathized with her as best I could, 'What a blackguard! I trust you will have no more to do with him!'

  'Indeed not, sir, but my situation is now impossible. You see there was a violent quarrel with my parents who did not wish me to marry George - Major Armitage that is.'

  An officer but no gentleman.'

  'Quite, sir, but I was deceived by him so completely and have burned all my bridges. I have no resources and am untrained for any sort of trade or profession.'

  'Of course not but surely suicide is not the answer?'

  'Sir, for a woman alone in a big city, hungry and penniless there is no other answer except...'

  I protested at once, 'Good heavens, you must not even consider that hair!' To my relief she said, 'Of course not, I would prefer death but just as I had worked up the necessary courage, you came along.'

  I tried to be constructive, 'Come I feel sure that there is another answer.' I took a notebook from my pocket and scribbled an address upon a leaf which I tore off and handed to her. 'Here is the address of an organization which exists to aid distressed gentlewomen. If you present yourself there tomorrow morning I feel sure that they will house you in their hostel and arrange for you to obtain employment as companion to a lady or something of that kind. What is your name dear lady?'

  'Kate Courtney-Smythe.’

  'Well, Miss Courtney-Smythe, I will write a short recommendation on the back of one of my cards. I feel sure they will take heed of it.'

  I wrote a short and apt message on the back of my visiting card, signed it and handed it to her together with the scrap of notepaper.

  She took them both eagerly, studied them and then said, 'Oh sir, Doctor Watson, what a splendid plan. You have saved my life and I will always remember you with gratitude. You were right, every cloud perhaps does have a silver lining and it can only be providence that sent you to prevent me from doing such a terrible thing. God bless you!' She embraced me, with gratitude rather than passion, 'It will not be quite so bad sleeping here on the Embankment in the knowledge that it is only for one more night.'

  I was horrified, 'You have been sleeping rough?'

  'I have had no option. When I left my parents I had little more than enough for a single train ticket. What was left I spent upon an inexpensive meal; but that was on Thursday.'

  'You have not eaten since?'

  'No, but I feel more optimistic now.'

  'You have luggage?'

  It appeared that she had placed her bags in the left luggage office at Victoria. I knew that t
here was only one thing to be done. 'Look here, we can't have you in this situation any longer. Here is a five pound note which will enable you to reclaim your luggage, have a meal and put up for the night at the ladies-only hotel at the back of Victoria Station.'

  At first she shook her head and pushed the proffered bank note aside, 'No sir, you have done so much for me already, I cannot take your charity.'

  'Nonsense, it is not charity for you have my card. Although I will be staying at Charing Cross for a day or two I should be back at my home address in about a week. When you are on your feet again you can repay me.'

  Tears welled up in her great blue eyes as she took the bank note in a small, trembling, gloved hand, 'Doctor Watson as I know that you are a gentleman I will accept the money as a loan. God bless you again sir and now I will go and reclaim my luggage, get a meal and find that hotel.' I was about to offer to accompany her but, kissing her hand to me, she suddenly crossed the road and was very suddenly lost to my view. I was sorry to lose her company so quickly but consoled myself that I would see her again when she called to return my bank note. Perhaps, I mused, she might even consent to dine with me.